Heaven's Demon and Hell's Angel
by Zethos
Summary: Two brothers choose two different paths. One of them will lead to death and ruin. The other will lead to happiness. And the only way to walk to the end of the path is by killing... killing each other. Only one can live. But is there another way out?


_Ken Arch_

Although there was no body, Ken Arch decided to dig a grave. It was the last thing he could do for Wulfen, anyway, and he was determined to do it well. He chose a spot under his mother's favorite willow tree where nobody would see him, and began. It seemed strangely quiet without birdsong. All Ken heard was the dull gush of water and loud beating of drums in the city.

The work was tedious without a spade. Ken started to sweat. He wanted to sweat. Each of the sweat seemed to be an offering, an atonement of his guilt. He wanted the Sun to continue blazing – he felt better being punished by Mother Nature. Much better. One of the sweat fell into his eyes. It stung, but it stung comfortably. After all, it was a mindless, undeserved death. And Ken could have stopped it.

Somehow, other people always seemed to pay for his mistakes. His family always paid for his mistakes.

Time seemed to fly. He finished the job in the evening. He rummaged around his backpack and found Wulfen's favorite food – a dried chicken drumstick. Ken gave it to him every year, on his birthday. He used to love it, and would devour the whole thing in seconds. Ken had to run all about the house to get him to throw away the bone. It was like playing hide-and-seek around the farmhouse, amidst herds of alarmed cattle.

But now, Wulfen would never run again.

Ken remembered the time when he had fallen in the forest. His clothes had been ripped into shreds, and the werewolf's claws had dug deep into his chest. His legs were scratched, and the ankle in his right leg had been sprained. He was helpless, a free meal to the beasts of the deeper forest.

Then something started dragging him.

It was a wolf. It dragged him to its den, where a pack of wolves awaited. They circled around him like guardians. He later lost consciousness due to excessive blood loss – and he woke up at home, safe.

Two months later, a plague broke out. Because it was caused by fleas that lodged in the stray animals, the townspeople started killing them. Ken and several others tried to campaign against it, but they failed. All the animals were burned.

Then, during one of his morning walks, he found a little grey body hiding in the bushes. Streaks of red stained the body.

It was a wolf pup.

It was Wulfen.

He had survived, and was the last of his pack. Ken could'nt believe what the hunters were doing; they had wiped out the entire pack. Ken carefully carried the pup back. _You'll be okay, buddy. I'll save you. Somehow. _

Wulfen had distrusted Ken at first, even resorting to biting him… but now… Ken wanted to be bitten again. To be growled at. It would make him feel better.

Carefully placing the drumstick in the dent he had made, he buried it and uttered a prayer. He hoped Wulfen would find a better place to live, and could be reunited with his family...

Ken grabbed a stone nearby, and using the last of his strength, used his knife to carve his last words to Wulfen;

_R.I.P Wulfen_

_Your death will not be in vain. Your death will be avenged._

Then all turned black. The Grim Reaper was coming.

_----_

_Jowgen Arch_

When they went about looking for volunteers, Jowgen had immediately signed up. He was assigned to the drums, and he spent five hours training everyday. Just for this event. Because he couldn't lose to the darned Thomas Flint. Thomas seemed to compete with him for everything. Everything!

Now, he was hitting the drums while Athena waited onstage for Dagge Dye to appear. She was reluctant to join, mainly because of political reasons, but the townspeople had implored her; they wanted to make this a success. Well, at least the most of them did.

It seemed like hours, but Dagge finally appeared. The townspeople roared, and somebody even set off firecrackers. Dagge was accompanied by another man, his bodyguard Robbin. Robbin always wore a mask – people said it was because he was somehow disfigured when he was younger. Others said it was to protect his family – if his identity was known, his enemies might go after them. The second saying also gave birth to his nickname 'he-who-must-be-killed', because it made him sound as if he was a notorious criminal.

Dagge walked onstage, and thrust out his hand to Athena. "Thank you, Athena, for gracing the lavish ceremony your –"He glanced at the townspeople, and waved his hand "- very generous and kind townspeople threw to welcome me."

Athena tried to smile, but she looked more as if she had toothache. Shaking his hand as though Mr. Dye had contracted some kind of contagious disease., she said. "You're welcome, Mr. Dye."

Dagge smiled, and then began addressing his supporter with a speech. Athena quickly excused herself and left the stage. Jowgen stared at Thomas Flint, who was also playing the drums. Thomas seemed to be drinking all in, his eyes intently fixed on God knows where. _You can't lose to this idiot. They only will pick the best…_

Resisting his urge to yawn, Jowgen began scanning the crowd. There were many people, including the shopkeeper, Luna. She always seemed dreamy and drowsy. If Luna was here, where were his father and Ken? He had certainly remembered to inform them last night that he was going to play the drums, and he was sure that they would come to support him. Ah, never mind. He probably somehow missed them.

Finally, the whole speech was over. Jowgen still did not see his father. Or Ken. The bastard must had gone exploring again. The crowd began to disperse. Jowgen went behind stage to change. It was strangely quiet, especially after the crowd was gone.

"- Are you are Jowgen Arch?""

Jowgen turned. It was Robbin. "Yes." Then he quickly added. "One do you want?"

Robbin smirked. "Mr. Dye sends his thanks. He wants me to hand you….. this." Robbin handed to him a scroll.

"A letter?" Jowgen muttered, trying not to smirk. He unfurled the scroll and read it, although he had already guessed its contents. This could hardly be happening. He was one step closer to his dreams.

"You've been invited to join Mr. Dye's prestigious militia. Mind you, you're only offered the spot because of your…. contributions today." Robbin said. "Mr. Dye rewards those to serve him."

"He really has a militia?" Jowgen asked, placing the letter into his backpack like it was made of glass. "I thought he only ran a restaurant and some farms."

"Sometimes, things get dirty. And Mr. Dye doesn't like hanging his dirty linen in Athena's office. Or in Grendel's laboratory. " Robbin stared up into the sky. "Running such a large operation is not easy. It's up to us to help him. So think about the offer."

Jowgen watched as Robbin departed into the darkness. "I guess I really owe Rziom one now."

----

Jowgen returned home to find his father asleep in the chair near the fireplace instead of sleeping in bed. It was his father's old habit. Jowgen looked around. Sure enough, there was water boiling in the pot that hung over the fire.

"Dad." Jowgen shook his father's shoulder gently. "Where's Wulfen?"

"Wha?" His father, Hanks, stirred. "Wulfen?" He blinked, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah." Jowgen raised the roasted drumstick he had bought earlier. "I got him his favorite food. Just that we'll have to run around the house like madmen tomorrow." Jowgen chuckled. "How long do you think we're going to take to catch him? An hour or so?"

"Wulfen's gone." Hanks prodded the fire quietly. "He went to be with… Mother Nature."

"He went to the woods exploring with Ken? Again?" Jowgen rolled his eyes. "Ken never learns, does he?"

"Enough." Hanks raised a hand. "I don't wish to talk about it. Let bygones be bygones. I believe that it has been a long day for you. Go and rest. I'll boil some water for your bath."

"You already did." Jowgen stared at the drumstick, and shrugged. "Ah, well, it's a shame that Wulfen couldn't enjoy this delicacy tonight…" Jowgen took a bite.

"I already did? Hmm…" Hanks checked the pot. "It has been a long while since that fatal accident….. Time really flies quickly." Hanks sighed.

"Hmphhh… and you said you didn't want to talk about it…" Jowgen muttered, rolling his eyes about. Then, he noticed that the fire wasn't the only source of light. "Oh yeah, I've something to tell you…"

"Hm? Actually, I have something to tell you, too."

----

Ken woke up at around noon the next day, feeling warm and half-expecting Wulfen to howl at him for waking up so late. However, when the room remained silent except for the sound of footsteps in the living room, Ken slipped out of bed and into the living room. Jowgen, who was nearly done eating breakfast, looked at him and grinned. "Man, you look like a zombie. Do you need me to you help you get your breakfast?"

Ken smiled sleepily. "Thanks, but I'll be skipping breakfast. Wulfen's gonna kill me for waking up so late – he loves his morning walk. Did you see –" Ken stopped in mid-sentence. " - oh, right."

"Uh, Ken, I need to talk to you." Jowgen placed a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you won't get angry."

"Well, there's no need to comfort me." Ken closed his eyes and inhaled. "I appreciate it, bro, but I'd rather spend some time alone. Thanks, anyway."

"No. It's not about that." Jowgen took a step backwards and nearly sent the bowls crashing onto the floor. "But before I say it, just promise you won't fly into a rage and swear to sever ties with me or something."

"Alright." Ken sighed. "But say it quickly."

"Uh, Ken," Jowgen muttered, grabbing an umbrella. "I'm going to work in Dagge's Dye militia. You know, the brother of… of… Rex Dye."

----

**Author's note/dedication: **I would like to thank Absol Master, CrapPishh and Xemik665 for... eh... support during the period which I met a writer's block (and for evaluating the first drafts of this story). Thanks guys.

- Zethos


End file.
